Some boldly climbing areO'er the steep brake, Others are floating farO'er the smooth lake.
All for a purpose move,All with life teem, While the sweet stars aboveBlissfully gleam.
V.
MARGARET AT HER SPINNING-WHEEL.
MY heart is sad,My peace is o'er;
I find it neverAnd nevermore.
When gone is he, The grave I see;
The world's wide all Is turned to gall.
Alas, my headIs well-nigh crazed;
My feeble mindIs sore amazed.
My heart is sad,My peace is o'er;
I find it neverAnd nevermore.
For him from the windowAlone I spy;
For him aloneFrom home go I.
His lofty step,His noble form, His mouth's sweet smile,His glances warm,His voice so fraughtWith magic bliss, His hand's soft pressure,And, ah, his kiss!
My heart is sad,My peace is o'er;
I find it neverAnd nevermore.
My bosom yearnsFor his form so fair;
Ah, could I clasp himAnd hold him there!
My kisses sweetShould stop his breath, And 'neath his kissesI'd sink in death!
VI.
SCENE--A GARDEN,Margaret. Faust.
MARGARET.
DOST thou believe in God?
FAUST.
Doth mortal liveWho dares to say that he believes in God?
Go, bid the priest a truthful answer give,Go, ask the wisest who on earth e'er trod,--Their answer will appear to be Given alone in mockery.
MARGARET.
Then thou dost not believe? This sayest thou?
FAUST.
Sweet love, mistake not what I utter now!
Who knows His name?
Who dares proclaim:--
Him I believe?
Who so can feel His heart to steel To sari believe Him not?
The All-Embracer, The All-Sustained, Holds and sustains He not Thee, me, Himself?
Hang not the heavens their arch overhead?
Lies not the earth beneath us, firm?
Gleam not with kindly glances Eternal stars on high?
Looks not mine eye deep into thine?
And do not all things Crowd on thy head and heart, And round thee twine, in mystery eterne, Invisible, yet visible?
Fill, then, thy heart, however vast, with this, And when the feeling perfecteth thy bliss, O, call it what thou wilt, Call it joy! heart! love! God!
No name for it I know!
'Tis feeling all--nought else;
Name is but sound and smoke, Obscuring heaven's bright glow.
VII.
MARGARET, Placing fresh flowers in the flower-pots.
O THOU well-tried in grief,Grant to thy child relief, And view with mercy this unhappy one!
The sword within thy heart,Speechless with bitter smart, Thou Lookest up towards thy dying son.
Thou look'st to God on high,And breathest many a sigh O'er his and thy distress, thou holy One!
Who e'er can knowThe depth of woePiercing my very bone?
The sorrows that my bosom fill, Its trembling, its aye-yearning will,Are known to thee, to thee alone!
Wherever I may go,With woe, with woe, with woe, My bosom sad is aching!
I scarce alone can creep,I weep, I weep, I weep, My very heart is breaking.
The flowers at my windowMy falling tears bedewed, When I, at dawn of morning,For thee these flow'rets strewed.
When early to my chamberThe cheerful sunbeams stole, I sat upon my pallet,In agony of soul.
Help! rescue me from death and misery!
Oh, thou well-tried in grief,Grant to thy child relief, And view with mercy my deep agony!
FROM FAUST--SECOND PART.
I.
ARIEL.
WHEN in spring the gentle rainBreathes into the flower new birth, When the green and happy plainSmiles upon the sons of earth, Haste to give what help we may,Little elves of wondrous might!
Whether good or evil they,Pity for them feels the sprite.
II.
CHORUS OF SPIRITS.
WHEN the moist and balmy galeRound the verdant meadow sighs, Odors sweet in misty veilAt the twilight-hour arise.
Murmurings soft of calm reposeRock the heart to child-like rest, And the day's bright portals closeOn the eyes with toil oppress'd.
Night already reigns o'er all,Strangely star is link'd to star;Planets mighty, sparkling small,Glitter near and gleam afar.
Gleam above in clearer night,Glitter in the glassy sea;Pledging pure and calm delight,Rules the moon in majesty.
Now each well-known hour is over,Joy and grief have pass'd away;Feel betimes! thoult then recover:
Trust the newborn eye of day.
Vales grow verdant, hillocks teem,Shady nooks the bushes yield, And with waving, silvery gleam,Rocks the harvest in the field.
Wouldst thou wish for wish obtain,Look upon yon glittering ray!
Lightly on thee lies the chain,Cast the shell of sleep away!
Tarry not, but be thou bold,When the many loiter still;All with ease may be controll'dBy the man of daring will.
III.
ARIEL.
HARK! the storm of hours draws near, Loudly to the spirit-ear Signs of coming day appear.
Rocky gates are wildly crashing, Phoebus' wheels are onward dashing;(A wonderful noise proclaims the approach of the sun.)Light doth mighty sounds beget!
Pealing loud as rolling thunder, Eye and ear it fills with wonder,Though itself unconscious yet.
Downward steals it,'mongst the flowers Seeking deeper, stiller bowers, 'Mongst the foliage, 'neath the rock;Thou'lt be deafened by the shock!
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